


Day 25 Prompt - SamBucky

by Siancore



Series: May Writing Challenge [9]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Falcon & The Winter Soldier
Genre: M/M, Mutual Pining, Sambucky Domesticity, Tiny Misunderstandings, Yearning, they were roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:08:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24364831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siancore/pseuds/Siancore
Summary: Bucky Barnes didn’t know when it had happened, but he knew he had no idea what to do with the information when the realization dawned on him: He had it bad for Sam Wilson.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson
Series: May Writing Challenge [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1743448
Comments: 6
Kudos: 107





	Day 25 Prompt - SamBucky

**Author's Note:**

> For @helga-leakadia’s May Writing Challenge for my OTPs. This will be the last one. I failed this challenge so badly and publicly. I’m sorry. I hope this makes up for my failures in some way.

Bucky Barnes didn’t know _when_ it had happened, but he knew he had no idea what to do with the information when the realization dawned on him: He had it bad for Sam Wilson.

It had been like any other afternoon at the house that he and Sam were holed up in. They had agreed to be as self-sufficient as they could with growing and making their own food. It saved money and time making trips to town whenever they needed anything. Bucky was enjoying it. There was something reminiscent of his youth when he and Sam would bake their own bread and cook hearty meals. It made the house feel like home. That caused Bucky’s heart to feel content, but somewhat sad for the memories that stirred inside.

His melancholy dissipated each time, however, when Sam, pleased with his handiwork, gifted Bucky with a smile so bright he had to avert his gaze. It was presently one of those times. He had finished chopping wood and returned indoors looking for something cool to drink. He ambled into their kitchen and found Sam there.

The whole room smelled of baking bread and a hint of Sam. Bucky’s heightened senses seemed to hone in on Sam in recent times. He couldn’t help it, Sam was just _so_ – _Sam._ He was extraordinary, yet so normal all at once and Bucky often found himself struck by the other man. By the simplicity of their living arrangement, and by the fact that what he was feeling for Sam was anything _but_ simple.

He stood a moment and watched Sam’s back as he busied himself with clearing away the bowls and spoons and other utensils he had been working with. He hummed some tune that Bucky didn’t recognize as he ran water in the sink. Bucky couldn’t drag his eyes away, even though Sam was doing nothing that was particularly interesting.

_He’s just doing the fucking dishes_ , Bucky silently chided himself. _Quit standing here watching him like a weirdo._

The whole domestic scene tugged at Bucky’s heart, to be honest, and he didn’t want to dwell on what it meant.

When Sam finally turned, he was startled. Placing his hand over his chest, and closing his eyes, he said, “Jesus, Barnes. Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“Sorry,” Bucky managed, clearing his throat and placing his hands into his pockets.

“You’re light on your feet, dude,” Sam added, as he draped the dry dishcloth over his own shoulder and leaned against the sink. “Gotta make some noise when I’ve got my back to you and a rolling pin in my hand. You should know better than to creep up on a vet like that.”

“I know. I’m sorry, Sam.”

Sam gave him a warm smile and said, “It’s okay. Done with the wood? Want something to drink?”

Bucky’s heart did that thing again where the warmth spread through his chest and made him feel like he was being hugged. He only realized that he was stood there staring at Sam, once again, when Sam gave him a questioning look, reminding him that conversations worked better when one person actually offered a response to the other, much more handsome and sweet person, instead of just staring.

“Yeah,” said Bucky, as he ran his flesh hand over his now short hair, out of habit. “We got enough to last us for a little while.”

“Thanks for that.”

“You don’t gotta thank me for it, Sam,” he said with a small smile. “Just doin’ my part to help out.”

“Hey, my Mama raised herself a well-mannered son,” Sam replied with that wide, toothy grin that made Bucky’s chest tighten in a way that scared him, but that he also wanted to never stop. “So, you can take it up with her. Sit, I made lemonade as well as bread.”

Bucky did as Sam said, and pulled out a chair at the small, round table before sitting and saying, “It smells good.”

“Thanks, man. These online tutorials are pretty good. I think I’m getting better.”

“You’re good at everything you do,” said Bucky, before he could stop himself.

It’s not that he didn’t want to lavish Sam Wilson with compliments, because he did. He wanted to tell Sam everyday that he looked nice regardless of what he was wearing; or that the particular lotion he always wore smelled great; or that him standing or sitting close to Barnes made him feel calm; or that his smile was contagious; or that when the sunlight hit his pretty brown eyes Bucky swore he had never seen anything quite as lovely in his whole entire life. And that was the issue. Once he got started with telling Sam all the nice things, he didn’t think he’d be able to stop.

He stared down at his hands and missed the way the corners of Sam’s lips turned up into a gracious smile. Sam placed the glass of lemonade down on the table and took up a seat next to Bucky. He could have sat directly across from him, but he didn’t; he sat next to him and Bucky could smell his lotion mixed with the sweetness of the dough he had been kneading.

“Thank you,” Bucky managed as he took a sip.

His eyes closed as the saccharine liquid passed his lips and slid down his throat. He let out a pleased hum.

“Good?”

“Yeah,” he replied happily. “Is there anything you ain’t good at, Wilson?”

Sam leaned back in his chair, folded his arms over his chest, and then shrugged before answering, “Yet to find it.”

It wasn’t arrogance, or even Sam being cocky; it was him being playful and trying to make Bucky laugh. It worked. Bucky let out a little chortle and shook his head before replying, “Yeah, I believe that.”

It was easy, Bucky mused, to feel safe and secure around Sam. Not only because he was a highly trained soldier and Avenger, but because of how easy it was to be near him. It was too easy, and Bucky felt himself falling deeper and deeper for the other man.

Sam saw Bucky for who he was in the present time. Not who he was before he ‘died’; not what he did when he was the Winter Soldier. But for who he was right then and there. He never looked at Bucky like he was afraid of him or as if he pitied him. He figured it was because of the work Sam did with veterans after he himself had been discharged from service, but it was more than that. It was Sam’s understanding and compassionate nature. He was a genuinely good person who treated others how they needed to be treated. He had gone through unimaginable horrors and had his own demons. Sam Wilson was a rare wonder, but also an everyday guy, and that was half of the appeal for Bucky.

The other half was the fact that Bucky could honestly just be himself around Sam. There was no added pressure to pretend to be something he wasn’t. They spoke about things troubling them when they wanted to. They could be blunt with one another and not have it border on disrespect or apathy. Bucky never felt like he had to live up to a memory of his former self, like he had to with Steve. He never felt like he had to place a filter on what he said or hold back with his morbid sense of humor like he did with others for fear of them thinking he was dangerous. He could say what he wanted and be who he needed to be without fear of judgement. Without fear all together. That’s how safe he felt with Sam, who was now looking at him as if he were waiting for a reply.

“Sorry, I zoned out for a minute,” Bucky proffered. “Did you say somethin’?”

“I was just sayin’ it might be nice to drop some of the loaves off to the neighbors later,” said Sam. “I probably made too many.”

“Good idea,” said Bucky, as he let his gaze float over Sam’s face.

Of course, he noticed when they first met that Sam was a handsome man. High cheekbones and long lashes and bright smiles. Yet, the longer they spent together, the more they got to know one another, the more Bucky found that he couldn’t look directly at Sam, even though he wanted to drink in his good looks.

It was almost too much to look at Sam when he stared right back; when they were sitting quietly like they were in that moment. Sam warm eyes were almost too much when he regarded Bucky that way: Intense, but soft around the edges with the hint of a question somewhere behind them.

“You –”

“What –”

They let out a laugh at having spoken at the same time.

“Go ahead,” said Sam with a crooked grin.

“Nah, what were you gonna say?”

“I was just gonna ask what you were looking at,” Sam admitted, and Bucky’s face felt warm.

He cleared his throat and said, “You, uh, you got somethin’.”

“I have something?” Sam asked, looking slightly confused.

“Yeah,” said Bucky, slightly flustered. “You got – here. Lemme just –”

With that, Bucky reached his hand over and pressed the pads of his fingers across Sam’s brow. He could sense the exact moment that Sam held his breath after a sharp little hitch. The bottom of Bucky’s palm ghosted lightly over Sam’s lips before he pulled away and apologized.

“Sorry, Sam, I – I should’ve. You had – there was flour on, no, above your eye. Sorry, I shouldn’t have touched you like that.”

Sam was silent a moment, his skin still tingling from where the other man a brushed against him. Then, he stood abruptly, scraping the chair across the floor, before he rushed out of the kitchen.

“Sam!” Bucky called after him, as he watched him jog upstairs.

…..

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!_

Bucky’s mind was working overtime as he paced about the living room. Had he done something wrong? Had he crossed some unspoken boundary between them? He touched Sam’s face. He reached out and touched Sam’s face, without asking, and Sam freaked out. He had fucked up.

After berating himself for a beat longer, he decided to go to Sam. To apologize. To make sure he was okay. Bucky smoothed down his clothing and climbed the stairs. He ambled slowly toward Sam’s door. He decided not to soften his footfalls. He wanted to announce his approach. He didn’t want to startle Sam anymore than he had already.

He knocked gently and then called out, “Sam? Are you okay? Sam, I’m sorry. If I did something to make you feel uncomfortable, I want you to know I’m sorry.”

There was silence and Bucky thought that it was probably best to leave Sam alone for a while.

“I’m sorry,” he said once more. “I’m gonna go now.”

As he turned to leave, the door opened. Sam was standing there hugging himself and giving Bucky an unreadable look. Bucky’s heart sank at the sight.

“Sam,” he whispered.

“You don’t have to leave,” said Sam. “I just – you just –”

“Scared you? I didn’t mean to.”

“No, no, it’s not that,” said Sam, as he gestured for Bucky to enter his bedroom. “It just _surprised_ me, I guess. You’ve never _touched_ me like that before.”

“Like what?”

“Softly,” said Sam, as he dipped his head.

“Oh,” said Bucky.

_Oh._

“Sometimes, you look at me like –”

“Sorry.”

“Please, Buck, stop apologizing.”

“Okay, sorry.”

“Barnes.”

“Go on.”

Sam took a deep breath and then sat on his bed. He patted the space next to him, and Bucky took up a seat too.

“I’m sorry for running off like that,” said Sam, as he wrung his hands together. “I feel like an idiot, now.”

“No way,” said Bucky softly. “You’re not. I’m the idiot who touched you without permission.”

They stared at one another a moment, before Sam said, “Can I tell you something?”

“Anything,” said Bucky, feeling drawn in by Sam’s gaze again.

“It’s been _years_ since anyone has even been remotely gentle with me,” said Sam with a sad glint behind his eyes. “Can’t remember the last hug I had. The last time someone touched me in a way where it wasn’t them trying to kill me or hurt me, know what I mean?”

Bucky nodded his head and his heart sank. He remembered when he himself, though under brainwashed conditions, hurt Sam. He remembered kicking Sam, choking Sam, _hurting_ Sam. He felt sick.

“I’m sorry for hurting you.”

“It wasn’t you,” said Sam before he let out a sigh. “Just now, I freaked out because it’s been so long since someone reached out and touched me. And you were so soft, Barnes. So soft. And, like I said, no one’s been that way with me for a long time. I was surprised, but not in a bad way.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes in a questioning manner.

“It was just a _lot,_ ” Sam added. “Like I tried to say before, sometimes you look at me and I get confused.”

“What about?”

“You’d say we’re friends, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, sometimes you look at me and I feel like we’re not friends.”

“I –”

“It’s not a bad thing,” Sam said quickly. “It’s just confusing because I kinda get the feeling you might like me a little _more_ than a friend would, but then nothing happens between us.”

“You want something to happen between us?” asked Bucky, noticing the vulnerable look on Sam face and wanting so desperately to hold him.

“I don’t know,” said Sam with a shrug, before lowering his gaze. “I mean, yeah. I do. I feel something here, don’t you?”

“Sam, I – I really just. I –”

“Shit,” said Sam, as he stood up and started to pace. “I read this whole thing wrong, didn’t I?”

He placed a hand to his face and said, “Fuck. Barnes, man, I’m sorry. I’m so fuckin’ touch starved that you wiped some flour from my face and I thought you wanted me the same way I want you. I’m a dumbass. I’m sorry. Just forget I said anything.”

Bucky stood up and stared at Sam.

“What?” asked Sam as he knit his brow.

“You want me?” asked Bucky, almost disbelievingly. “ _You_ want _me?”_

Sam let out a loud sigh and closed his eyes for a moment before saying, “Yeah, but I read you wrong, and made it weird, and y’know what? I made an ass outta myself, and I’m makin’ you uncomfortable. Dude, I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” said Bucky. “I ain’t uncomfortable, Wilson. _Christ_. I fuckin’ want you, too, alright?”

“Now is not the time to be playin’ with me.”

“I’m not,” said Bucky, as he inched closer. “I want you, Sam. _God_ , I want you so bad it hurts.”

Sam’s mouth fell agape when he saw the sincerity in Bucky’s eyes and the heard the earnestness of his voice. Bucky moved closer, still.

“I’ve wanted you for the longest time.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Sam asked as he tried to steady his breathing.

“How could I?”

“With your words. I mean, the staring was _okay_ , but I’m not a mind reader,” said Sam a little playfully, causing them both to chuckle.

“You’re great, okay? You’re a real hero, in and out of the uniform. And I’m – _me_.”

“There’s nothing wrong with who you are, Bucky.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Bucky replied, noticing that Sam was shifting closer. “But I’m not good enough for you.”

Sam raised his eyebrow and said, “Bullshit. You’re perfect for me.”

Bucky’s gaze shifted from Sam’s pretty eyes to his lips, and then back again. 

“ _You’re_ perfect.”

“I’m not,” said Sam. “But we could be perfect together.”

Sam stepped forward and placed both hands to Bucky’s chest. Bucky’s hands came to rest on Sam’s hips, as he drew him closer. They were pressed against one another before Bucky wrapped Sam in a firm hug. Sam draped his arms over Bucky’s shoulders and let himself be embraced. They melted into one another. Sam buried his face in the crook of Bucky’s neck and let out a relieved, contented sigh.

They stood that way wrapped around each other, swaying ever so slightly, and soaking up the moment. Bucky ran his hand up and down Sam’s back in a slow, soothing manner; Sam stroked the back of his head. They felt so warm; they felt so right. When Sam lifted his head and drew back slightly, Bucky missed the feeling immediately.

They held one another’s gaze, still embracing and swaying, before Bucky asked, barely above a whisper, “Can I kiss you?”

Sam smiled at Bucky, nodded his head, and then said, “Yes.”

And just like that, Bucky cupped Sam’s face and pressed their lips together. It was better than the former had ever imagined. Sam Wilson kissed like he did everything else: With skill and focus. His lips were soft, and he let out a little moan that Bucky found endearing, arousing, and distracting all at once. Bucky coaxed his lips open with his tongue, and Sam granted him entrance, lapping at his mouth with equal fervor.

After a moment, the pair pulled apart, breathless, and hugged one another again.

“ **I’m gonna ask you something and I need an honest answer** ,” asked Bucky, as he rubbed his palm over Sam’s face.

“Okay.”

“Is there anything you’re actually _not_ good at? Because _wow_.”

Sam smiled and playfully swatted at Bucky’s chest as Bucky thought he could honestly stay like that forever.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Sam replied, before pulling Bucky in for another kiss that was only broken when the two of them heard the smoke alarm sound because Sam’s forgotten bread had burnt.


End file.
